


Better Than Nyquil

by SurlyCat



Series: Porny Presents [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bossy Castiel, Bunker Fluff, Castiel's tummy appreciation, Crack, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Grace-Powered Orgasms, Grumpy Dean, M/M, Schmoop, Sick Dean, Sickfic, Smut, just a little, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurlyCat/pseuds/SurlyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with a runny nose. Dean didn’t think anything of it, because in all fairness, he and Sam had been running around in forty-degree weather in the middle of night while on a hunt. It’s simple biology, that’s all; breathe in cold air, your nose runs, that’s that. Grab a tissue, take care of business, move on. </p><p>***</p><p>Or, that time that Dean got a cold and wouldn't let Cas heal him. Until he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Nyquil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gaelicblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaelicblue/gifts).



> This is just a quick little thing that came to mind when I found out that the lovely Gaelicblue has been sick and feeling a little puny, so I figured I'd bang it out real quick, because why not? Sorry in advance for the relatively little editing. 
> 
> So, quick note about the timeline for this. Just imagine some vague point in the next couple years, and pretend that the MOC has been resolved, and Cas is working on his own Grace. Yes, in my little story it's still fading because he managed to get it back, but it's missing the part that was used in Metatron's spell. 
> 
> Also: there is Celine Dion. I don't even know, y'all.

It started with a runny nose. Dean didn’t think anything of it, because in all fairness, he and Sam _had_  been running around in forty-degree weather in the middle of night while on a hunt. It’s simple biology, that’s all; breathe in cold air, your nose runs, that’s that. Grab a tissue, take care of business, move on. 

When the boys had gotten back to the bunker, Dean took a nice long shower, feeling much more positive as the minutes had ticked by under the water. It was that glorious sort of warm-up, where you can almost _feel_  your bones sighing happily, and you tingle from the inside out as your body gets back to normal temperature. Dean slept like a freakin’ baby that night, warm, clean, and with an only barely there sniffle. 

The next day, came symptom #2: the headache. Waking up, Dean was still breathing just fine, but his head was definitely NOT fine. His neck was stiff from sleeping in the same position for too long, and it was radiating into his skull. Figuring the headache was a combination of tension, caffeine withdrawal, and needing to eat, Dean had made his way to the kitchen to down a pot of coffee, eat three bowls of cereal, and take some ibuprofen. The caffeine helped a little, but within an hour of the cereal, Dean felt like his throat and ears were throbbing, and for once, he listened to his body. He wanted water, and lots of it. Not until after his coffee was gone, though; couldn’t go diluting all that precious caffeine, after all.

He never did manage to escape the grogginess he’d woken up with, and the lights in the bunker were too bright, and Sam was trying to talk about things. Dean could not concentrate on things. His brain was just not functioning enough to focus on problem solving, and memory recall, and being anything more than a blob of flesh and bone and phlegm. Cas wasn’t much better to deal with, when he’d come in a little after lunchtime, asking his random questions and looking too concerned about _everything,_ and smelling like sunshine. Dean just knew that the bastard had been riding around with the windows down in his pimpmobile and enjoying the fresh air and warm day that Dean wanted scowl at. Yeah, that’s right. The nice weather that finally decided to happen today could fuck right off for being an asshole and waiting until Dean felt too gross to enjoy it.  

“I’m going to my room,” Dean blurted, cutting Sam off mid-sentence into some _utterly fascinating_ discussion on who-the-fuck-cares about the magical properties of fucking rosemary. 

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Cas asked, concerned eyes aimed right on Dean.

“Nothing, I just don't give a damn about herbs, when I could be doing something useful. Like enjoying my memory foam,” Dean grumbled, pushing away from the table.

Sam started throwing the concerned look then, mixed with vague irritation at Dean’s grumpiness, and Dean pressed his lips together. He knew he was being an asshole, and figured it best to just go to his room and spare everyone, including himself. Without another word, he stomped off to his room, ignoring Cas’ _you’re being a defensive brute for reasons that you’re lying about and I do NOT approve and will be letting you know it_ Squint. 

Sure enough, not three minutes after getting to his room, Cas’ distinct knock sounded on Dean’s door. Ridiculous angel, still freakin’ knocking, when he’s been sleeping in there every time he stays overnight in the bunker. Which these days, was more often than not. It was practically _their_  room at that point. Hell, even right then, there was a tub of Cas’ hair product sitting on Dean’s dresser. And wasn’t that just hilarious; an angel using freaking hair wax and coiffing up his ‘do before rolling out to deal with baddies.

“What, Cas?” Dean called tiredly, sitting on the edge of the bed while pulling off the last of his shirts so he could lie down comfortably, in just his boxers.

Poking his head in, Cas caught his eye to get a read on Dean, before seeming to decide he didn’t care anyway, and slipped into the room. 

“You’re sick,” Cas declared, leaving no room for argument.

“I’m just tired,” Dean argued on a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Turn that light off, will ya?” he asked, since the light switch was right next to Cas, by the door.

A moment later, the room was blissfully dark, and Dean flipped on the lamp next to his bed as a compromise; it was fairly dim, and not so irritating to his eyes. Cas didn’t hesitate to cross the room and drop himself down on the edge of the bed next to Dean, hand automatically coming up to feel his forehead. Dean wanted to bat him away, but Cas’ hand was dry and cool, and felt really nice. He hadn’t even noticed that he was kind of warm until then. Excellent. Fever.

With a sigh through his nose, Cas dropped his hand and brought it around to Dean’s bare back, rubbing a soothing, nonsensical pattern over Dean’s skin.

“If you let me heal you now, it won’t take as much-”

“No.”

“Dean,” Cas said chidingly, summoning up that Angel of the Lord voice. 

“It’s just a little cold, okay? Give me a couple days and I’ll kick it. Gotta let my immune system handle it so it doesn’t go all weak. Don’t need my... _you_...kissing my booboos every time I sniffle,” Dean argued, torso slowly listing toward Cas with every pass of that palm over his back. “Not wasting Grace on me like that, when my body’s designed to take care of it.”

Dean didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but either way, he didn’t need them open to practically feel the frown radiating off of Cas. 

“Then at least let me take care of you, if you’re going to be a stubborn ass,” Cas replied. “Tell me everything you’ve ingested today and what you’re experiencing so I can work on getting a remedy together to restore your fluids back to a manageable level.”

Figuring it’d be better to play along than argue- because Cas sure was one to talk about being a stubborn ass- Dean listed off everything he could think of, quirking a brow when Cas sighed through his nose once Dean was finished.

“You’re producing excess phlegm because of the cereal; sugar and dairy both irritate sinuses. The water would have helped thin it out and take the pressure off, but you drank coffee, and the caffeine is drying you out, on top of the fever that’s starting to manifest,” Cas mused aloud. “You also have a small deformation of the sinus cavity connected to your left ear, which I suspect is causing a blockage and making you more uncomfortable.”

It was easy to forget in the day-to-day, that Cas not only had a complete scientific understanding of the human body, but also knew- specifically- Dean’s body, inside and out. Moments like that though, always seemed to remind Dean of exactly who and what he was in a relationship with. Even if Cas were to become human again, Dean would never be able to look at him as an actual human, not with all that angelic knowledge swimming around in his head.

“I’m going to get you some water for now, and then I’m going to start on some remedies,” Cas said with a firm nod, rubbing at the back of Dean’s neck affectionately. “Don’t lie down until after I get back.”

Dean nodded, immediately missing the weight of Cas’ hand on him when the angel stood up to exit the bedroom. Cas was back within a couple minutes though, two water bottles in hand, and with instructions that Dean drink as much of one as he could muster before lying down. Dean would never admit how much he enjoyed it when Cas pulled the covers up over him and kissed him on the corner of his mouth when Dean was done with his water. And he damn well wouldn’t call it being tucked in. 

The next day, Cas brought him a number of drinks with varying levels of questionable smells and consistencies, that he claimed would be more effective than pharmaceuticals. Dean had humored him, and despite the fact that the one that tasted like tree bark worked to make his head feel better, he couldn’t bring himself to do it again. He’d even tried the weird cucumber-y almost-tea for his now sore throat, but when Cas had brought in the disconcertingly orange-brown one that smelled vaguely like lemon and tasted like death, Dean had put his foot down. Cas was not pleased, but finally conceded to the pharmacy run for cold medicine. 

By the fourth day, Dean was utterly miserable in his self-imposed quarantine area, aka: his bedroom. To add on to the head pounding, fever, sore throat, and phlegm extravaganza, his body had given him yet another symptom; a chest-rattling cough that refused to die down for more than fifteen minutes at a time. The medicine wasn’t accomplishing much except to make him feel at once wired and exhausted, and giving him a heinous case of cottonmouth. This, of course, meant more water, which then turned hauling his achy ass to the bathroom far more than his muscles were happy with. After his fourth trip in two hours, Dean said fuck it and trudged to the makeshift living area they’d made, which was conveniently close to the bathrooms. If he stayed in his room he’d be too tempted to lie down, and it would continue to be more of a process than necessary to keep getting up to go to the bathroom. Might as well sit up on the couch and watch TV and save himself the up-and-down effort.

Dean wouldn’t let Sam come near him and risk spreading it, but Cas didn’t have any such ideas on listening to Dean, and at some point in the evening of the fourth day, Dean caved to the angel’s attentions. Just a little bit. He’d passed out on the couch, and when he came to, his feet were resting in Cas’ lap, covered up with socks that Dean definitely hadn’t put on himself. The warmth was nice, but there was an annoyingly little pokey thing on the seam at the toe of the left one, and it needed to go away. 

“Cas, will you take my socks off?” Dean ~~whined~~ asked, coughing when his the vibration of his voice made a bit of drainage break loose and tickle his throat. 

Cas looked over with a small, empathetic smile, but shook his head as he rubbed his hand over the feet in his lap. “Dean, you need to keep your feet warm, and you know it.”

“The left one is poking me, and if you don’t do it, then I will,” Dean threatened, hoping that Cas wouldn’t make him do it. His ribs and back ached from coughing his lungs out, and he wasn’t entirely certain that his head wouldn’t detach if he tried to sit up, too heavy for his neck to support it. 

“Go ahead, Dean, I won’t stop you if that's what you want to do,” Cas smiled sweetly. There was a knowing look flashing in those stupidly blue eyes though, that had Dean glaring at him.

Just to prove his point, Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his exhausted core muscles in preparation to sit up, but all it earned him was another coughing spell and a wave of dizziness. When he had his breathing under control again, he peeked at Cas and was unsurprised to see that concerned frown back on his face as the angel let out a sigh through his nose. Lifting Dean’s feet from his lap, Cas rose from the couch and came over to the other end, extending a hand. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he said softly. 

Dean didn’t protest, letting Cas help him up, though it was a little humiliating when the hand wasn’t enough, and Cas had to drag him up by the armpits to get him upright. Slowly, they trudged their way to the living quarters, Cas hollering a ‘Goodnight, Sam!’ the direction of the library as they walked, pausing just long enough to get a reply. 

Once in the bedroom- after a much needed pitstop at the bathroom, Cas gently deposited Dean on the side of the bed and then started the process of stripping himself down for the night. Dean might have been sick, but he could still appreciate the view, and leaned back on his hands to watch unabashedly as Cas methodically removed his coat and then moved on to loosening his tie. Dean would never _not_  be turned on at the way Cas always managed to yank the tie out from the collar in a singular, smooth motion that was both perfunctory and borderline aggressive. The soft hiss of the fabrics’ friction was damn near Pavlovian, and Dean’s dick twitched for the first time in days. Cas, of course, was oblivious to this, too focused on moving on to the buttons of his shirt.

“Cas...baby, come here,” Dean said, voice graveled from the irritation in his throat.

Cas shuffled over to him, stopping when he was standing between Dean’s knees, hand automatically coming out to check Dean’s forehead for the millionth time. Dean ignored it though, instead reaching up to grab at Cas’ hips. Glancing down to meet Dean’s eyes, Cas looked at once amused and disapproving, knowing exactly what Dean was thinking. 

“If you’re too ill to take off your own socks, you’re too ill for intercourse,” Cas said, eyebrows lifted delicately over an apologetic little smile.

Dean gave him an unimpressed look and reached up to unbuckle Cas’ belt, pleased when Cas didn’t try to stop him. “Cas, we talked about this. You don’t call it intercourse unless you’re outside of the bedroom.”

“I didn’t forget,” Cas said lightly, continuing on with his mission to unbutton his shirt. “I just don’t intend on using any words that could encourage you to hope for experiencing sexual activity until you’re better.”

“You’re letting me take your pants off,” Dean retorted dryly, pulling the zipper down pointedly. 

“It’s more efficient,” Cas shrugged with a little smirk. “All the faster I get undressed so I can crawl in bed with you.”

Despite knowing that Cas wouldn’t be moved, Dean still pulled Cas’ pants down over his hips until they fell into a heap around his feet, and Cas’ shirt followed seconds later. Then there was the glorious expanse of soft, olive skin before his eyes, and Dean sighed. Even if he wasn’t getting lucky that night, Dean still couldn’t resist leaning forward to nuzzle his face against the warm softness of Cas’ stomach, and the odd comfort it brought him. Cas was in good shape, but he also had a little bit of a tummy, and something about pressing his face into it always made Dean feel safe and happy when he felt the soft give of it. 

Dean’s almost-beard (yeah, he was not at all concerned about his face the last few days) must have tickled, because Cas barked a surprisingly high-pitched sound, and the soft flesh abruptly leapt away from Dean’s cheek. 

“Nooo, come back. I didn’t mean to,” Dean said, immediately realizing how childish and needy he probably sounded. Fuck it though, Cas already knew how Dean was with his tummy appreciation, and they were alone right then. Tightening his arms around Cas’ lower back, Dean reeled him back him, earning a huff of laughter, and long fingers carding through his hair.

“Dean, we need to get you undressed and under the blankets,” Cas appealed, tugging lightly at Dean’s hair. 

“Damn right I need to do all that,” Dean grinned, looking up at Cas and batting his eyelashes. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Cas, come on. I’m not completely incapacitated,” Dean whined, running a hand over Cas’ as of now, uninterested crotch. The barest of twitches was all he got for it, and Dean knew that it was mostly just natural physiological response. 

Sighing through his nose, Cas knelt down on the floor, and removed first one sock, and then the other, a thoughtful frown pinching at his brow. Then he straightened up a little bit and reached for the waistband of Dean’s pajama pants, lifting his face to give a stern look, fingers curled but unmoving behind the elastic. 

“Will you let me heal you?”

Dean glared at the angel kneeling at his feet. Of course he would pull something like that. Crafty asshole. 

“Are you seriously trying to negotiate sexy times around letting you heal me?”

“Is it working?” Cas asked, hopeful little smile just barely held back on his lips. 

In the months since they’d started doing more than literal sleeping together, Cas had started picking up on some of the more subtle parts of sex, and the bastard decided that right then would be the perfect time to show it. Slowly, _so_  slowly, he started tugging the waistband downward, giving Dean that teasing sly look he’d developed that was reserved strictly for things involving Dean and one or both of them being naked. 

“If you’ll let me do it, you’ll get what you want, you know,” Cas said, sweetening the pot. “You could have any part of me you want in whatever way you want, and I’d be perfectly content to let you have it. As long as you’re healthy enough to withstand it and not overexert yourself.”

“That’s not fair, Cas. Withholding sex to get you want is...it’s...” Dean gestured, trying come up with the right word. “It’s fucking devious, man. It’s like one step away from the dog house.”

Cas tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “We don’t have a dog,” he said incredulously. But then a beat later, “Do we?” he asked, eyes brightening hopefully.

It was at once devastatingly adorable, and frustrating. 

“No Cas, we don’t have a dog,” Dean shook his head tiredly. “Never mind. Point is, this is so not cool,” he said, gesturing between his lap and Cas.

“I disagree,” Cas said, lifting his chin stubbornly. “You’re in a committed romantic relationship with a being that has the power and is willing to heal you, but you refuse to allow it. It’s foolish, and...and it’s upsetting to me,” he finishes, bravado deflating.

“And you don’t think it’s fucking foolish to waste a piece of your goddamned _life force_  on me for something that people go through everyday and live through just fine?” Dean challenged. “Hell, I’ve been sick like this more than a few times in my life, and I’m still here.”

Dean knew the moment Cas accepted the logic, but he definitely looked pissed about it. This time when Cas tugged at the waistband of Dean’s pants, there was nothing sexy about it; it was all business, and Dean lifted his ass to help, unprompted. With surprisingly aggressive movements, the material was practically yanked down Dean’s legs while Cas scowled, moving on immediately to pull Dean’ shirt over his head. He took care not to jostle Dean too much, but the movements were still tight with irritation, and, well. Maybe it kind of turned Dean on, seeing the angry scowl on Cas’ face; even when they first met and Cas had gotten up in his face more than once, Dean could never deny that Cas is sexy as fuck when he’s mad. And the fact that the angel was currently wearing only a pair of skintight boxer briefs, and every ripple of muscle was on display as he made all those tight movements with his body? Yeah, not helping Dean to want him less, at all. 

The moment Dean’s shirt was tossed to the floor, Cas straightened up to stomp over to the light switch, then paused, hand hovering over it as he seemed to remember something. Hand changing course, Cas reached for the doorknob instead, and flung the door open, still stomping as he exited the room without a word, and no concern to be found about his state of undress. One of the things that Dean both loved and groaned over about Cas, was that he apparently had absolutely no shame. If it were up to Cas, the guy would probably walk around the bunker naked all day and go commando under those dress slacks. 

A few minutes later, Cas was back with a bottle of water, unscrewing the lid forcibly enough that it was probably in danger of turning to dust in the angel’s hand. It somehow stayed intact though, and then the open bottle was being pushed in Dean’s face. Yep, definitely still pissed.

“Drink all of it,” he ordered gruffly. 

“Yes, sir,” Dean smirked with a little salute, because yeah, maybe he liked to goad Cas. And by the way Cas puffed up like an agitated bird, it worked.

“Dean Winchester,” Cas rumbled, voice deep with irritation.

 _Oh shit. First_ and _last name, with the scary, quiet voice._

“If you’d like to have your cock sucked _any_ time soon, I suggest you stop provoking me and drink your fucking water,” Cas warned.

Dean just barely managed not to choke on his own spit as he sucked in a breath. Cas had _never_  used a naughty bedroom word, much less in the same breath as an f-bomb. Christ, Dean was unprepared for that, and stared wide-eyed at angel looming over him, reaching out for the bottle without breaking eye contact. The moment he started drinking the water, Cas relaxed minutely, giving a little nod of approval as he crossed his arms over his chest in a very human gesture of ‘I’m not putting up with your bullshit’. 

Cas watched wordlessly, stock-still except for the rise and fall of his chest, as Dean drank the bottle down as fast as his swollen throat would allow. It probably took ten minutes, but Cas was nothing if not patient, and stood guard until the last drop was tipped into Dean’s mouth. The moment the water was gone, Cas stepped up to the headboard and fiddled with the pillows until all three of them were in a little pile, two stacked and the third resting like a little ramp against them.

“Good. Now lie down with your shoulders on the pillows,” Cas ordered. 

Dean had known for years that Cas could get bossy, but he’d never been on the receiving end of it with so few clothes on, and a bed in the vicinity. It was way more arousing than it had any right to be, and Dean complied easily, hoping that things were about to take a sexy turn, and that Cas wasn’t just being less delicate about tucking him in. 

Once Dean was situated, Cas climbed up on the bed and wasted no time tugging at Dean’s boxers. _Hell yeah, for the sexy turn!_ The moment they were off, Cas slid up Dean’s body, resting on his forearms so as not to press his weight against Dean’s ribs, and stared him down from only inches away.

“You are incorrigible,” Cas accused. “You frustrate, confuse, and defy me constantly. Always have.”

Dean could only blink up at the dark blue eyes boring down at him. 

“Yet,” Cas paused, tilting his head ever so slightly on a heavy sigh, “you are still precious to me, for those very reasons,” he said, looking down at Dean’s chest and pressing his lips together. 

When Dean realized that Cas was looking at where Dean’s heart would be, his pulse quickened, despite not knowing why that look was making his stomach flutter. The fluttering only intensified when Cas brought his eyes back up to Dean’s; those blues were stormy with more emotion than Dean could process, impossibly deep and filled with the weight of millennia of existence. Cas’ anger may have drained away, but the angel was no less intense with a different emotion hovering at the surface.

“I shouldn’t have threatened to deny you intimacy for not to bending to my will, when that defiance is one of the very reasons I hold you closest. Why you’re my beloved,” Cas stated, tipping his head down to drop a kiss to Dean’s sternum. 

Dean was helpless to prevent the quiet whimper that sounded in his throat at the sheer, unashamed earnestness in Cas’ voice. This wasn’t the first time Cas had said he loved him, but it was still overwhelming, and there was no way Dean could deny that he didn’t revel in it. There were still moments, of course, when Dean would question how he deserved the love of an angel, but Cas had been working on him, just like this. Doing what he could to reaffirm the way he felt until Dean could fully accept the truth someday. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, swallowing harshly around the lump in his throat.

Cas shushed him with fingertips to Dean’s lips and shook his head.

“I said I wanted to take care of you, so that’s what I’m going to do. With your agency in mind this time,” he said, a small smile quirking his lips. 

Removing his hand, Cas dipped down for a kiss, but pulled away before it could gain much heat.

“Sorry, but I don’t want to make you breathe too deeply and risk throwing you into another coughing spell,” Cas said, when Dean made an unhappy sound at Cas’ retreat.

Before Dean could respond to that, Cas had moved down to start pressing kisses and nibbles down Dean’s torso, carefully avoiding Dean’s known ticklish spots, and lavishing attention on his sweet spots. The touches were sweet and affectionate, but sensual enough that Dean felt his arousal build at a deliciously steady pace that was enough to keep him interested, but as Cas said, not make him breathe too sharply or abruptly. When Cas was satisfied with his attentions to Dean’s chest and stomach, he leaned up on his elbow and glanced up to catch Dean’s eye. 

“If you want to come, you’re going to have to stay still. Understood?” 

Dean blinked at the angel, surprised, and more than a little turned on at the casual authority that Cas was exercising over Dean’s orgasm. 

“Yeah, got it,” Dean nodded dumbly.

“Good,” Cas said with an approving smile, moving back down to get comfortable between Dean’s legs. 

Without further ado, Cas stretched his tongue out from his mouth and used it to pull the tip of Dean’s cock into his mouth, like he was licking a fucking ice cream cone, and suckled lightly. The sight alone made Dean’s hips twitch, but not wanting to lose so early on, he tamped down the urge to squirm and just let Cas do what he wanted. 

As it turned out, what Cas wanted to do was give the world’s most affectionate, yet torturous blowjob ever. Dean was sure that it started out as an effort to keep him from moving too much or breathing too hard, but the longer the teasing suckles and slow, intermittent bobbing went on, the more it seemed that Cas was actually just enjoying himself. 

After a while, Cas paused to pull his own boxers off- and why the fuck were they still on at that point?- before placing them on the blanket between Dean’s legs. Stroking his cock absently as he sat back on his haunches, Cas’ eyes darted around the space between Dean’s crotch and on down to somewhere around his calves. When he realized what Cas was doing, Dean couldn’t help but snort a laugh. 

“Are you calculating the trajectory of your come?”

“I’d rather not make a mess and have to wash this blanket tomorrow, but I’d very much like to stroke myself while I continue pleasuring you,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “I’m aroused to the point of discomfort, but I don’t want to stop tasting you.”

A shiver zipped up Dean’s spine at Cas’ words, raising a wave of goose bumps over his body. 

“Are you cold?” Cas asked, noticing the bumps on Dean’s legs. 

“Nuh uh,” Dean shook his head. “Just really fucking turned on,” he clarified, unable to look away from Cas’ cock, where the head was shiny with pre-come, and definitely looking hard enough to hurt. 

Seeing where Dean was looking, Cas gave him a dirty-looking smirk and let go of himself to give Dean a full view, while he scooted the boxers around to what he’d deemed to be the placement for maximum come-catching potential. With a dorky little wink, Cas got back in position, but with his knees beneath him this time. 

“Now. Stay still,” he reminded Dean, then swooped down to take Dean all the way to the back of his throat in one go.

“Ho-ly shit!” Dean wheezed, at both the unexpected change in technique, and the amount of control it took to keep his hips from bucking up.

Cas fucking _chuckled_  around Dean’s cock, and the vibrations did nothing to help Dean’s control situation. 

“Fucking Christ! You can’t do that, you bastard!” Dean swore, then moaned loudly when Cas’ hand started pumping what he couldn’t take, as if to say, ‘oh yeah?’

If the slow pace Cas had been maintaining before had been torture, it was nothing compared to the challenge of trying to stay still while Cas was giving one of the most enthusiastic- if a bit sloppy- blowjobs Dean had ever received. 

Dean could tell the moment Cas started stroking himself when there came a loud groan, and fuck if that wasn’t the most overall stimulating thing ever, between the vibration, and knowing that Cas was totally getting off to sucking Dean’s cock. 

“Cas... _Cas_! Not makin’ it, babe,” Dean warned, already feeling the tremble starting in his thighs.

This seemed to spur Cas closer to his own orgasm, making him pause the motions of his mouth to let out a heavy shuddering breath, his arm moving even faster as he jerked his own cock. 

“ _Fuck,”_ Cas cursed under his breath, dropping his first-ever mid-coitus curse word, and making Dean’s blood burn with how hot it was to see and hear.

But then he seemed to remember himself and dropped back down, sucking hard at the head of Dean’s cock and clearly trying to get Dean off first. Oh, and it fucking worked, because Dean only got as far as wheezing Cas’ name in warning, before his orgasm was crashing over him, and he was spilling into Cas’ mouth, back arching with a strangled cry.

Before he’d even had time to swallow, Cas followed him over the edge with a muffled groan, Dean’s cock still in his mouth, and come dribbling out of one corner of his lips. That alone had Dean twitching and releasing another spurt of come, but then a fresh wave of overwhelming arousal washed over him, and Dean knew something was off. It shouldn’t have been possible, but… _holy shit_ , he was about to come again.

“Cas! Oh god!” he gasped, thighs clenching so hard it nearly hurt.

Cas pulled his mouth off to rest his forehead against Dean’s thigh and groaned Dean’s name, body tensing sharply as he seemed to be experiencing the same thing. It wasn’t until then that Dean noticed that Cas was still somehow hard, and frantically working himself toward what appeared to be a second orgasm. 

“ _Dean! Ungh!”_

Cas grunted, then seized up, and Dean felt he was going to explode with the abrupt force of coming _again_ , nothing even touching his cock, while Cas practically screamed with his own second round. 

Both men trembled and jerked through the aftershocks, breathing hard as they tried to regain their faculties. It took probably a good two minutes before Dean was able to hear over the blood rushing through his ears, and another minute before he felt like he could begin to form words. 

“What...”

Well, okay, _word._

Slowly Cas pulled himself up to sit, eyes still wide and dazed, and cheeks flushed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He mouth closed with a click and he swallowed harshly, the sound loud in the quiet of the room and he stared at Dean in awe.

“That wasn’t supposed to...” he began, eyes flicking over Dean’s body. “I think I came twice. Did you, too?”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Dean blew out a sharp breath through his mouth. “Yeah. Uh. What the fuck was that?” he asked, noting the fine tremor still wracking his body.

“Dean, will you sit up, please?” Cas asked softly.

Without a thought, Dean pulled himself up, then blinked as he realized how easily it had come to him. He gave an experimental sniff that turned into a sharp inhale as he noticed a distinct lack of issue with his breathing. His eyes cut to Cas, who was looking away sheepishly and scratching lightly over his left forearm.

“You healed me,” Dean said flatly, trying to stay calm. The last thing he wanted after having a goddamned _double orgasm_ was to fight with Cas.

Cas pressed his lips together for a moment before bringing apologetic eyes up to meet Dean’s. “I didn’t mean to,” he said earnestly, eyes pleading to be believed.

“Then what the hell, Cas? In case you forgot, dudes aren’t supposed to have multiple orgasms. Not that I’m complaining, but...”

Dean’s sentence trailed off, but Cas didn’t jump in to fill the silence just yet, trying to figure out what to say.

“I um,” Cas started, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck as the flush on his face darkened half a shade. “It just felt so good, and I wasn’t ready for it to be over, so I tugged at a little bit of my Grace to see if I could make my orgasm last a little longer. I think the Grace got a little overexcited though, and leapt over to you while we were still touching, like a feedback loop.”

There was a pregnant silence where Dean considered it all, and Cas shifted around nervously as he waited for Dean to respond. It was obvious that Cas hadn’t done it on purpose, and Dean wasn’t mad at him, but it was still a bit confounding.

“Couple of questions, Cas.”

“Anything,” Cas said, and bless, he just looked so damn worried that Dean was upset with him.

“Have you been using your Grace to have better orgasms?”

“No,” Cas was quick to shake his head. “I’d never tried it before. I just knew that it wouldn’t take but a speck, and did it before I thought it through.”

“That wasn’t just a speck, dude.”

Cas huffed an odd laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, it was, what I accessed. But I...I felt your soul, Dean.”

“You tapped my soul like a freakin’ battery?” Dean asked, eyebrows shooting up.

Letting out a deep breath through his nose, Cas gave a little nod. “Yes, but it wasn’t a conscious move.”

Dean nodded, still a little confused at the mechanics of that, but ready to move on to his next question.

“Okay, so next thing. How in the hell did you accidentally heal me? I thought angel mojo worked based on the intent behind it, or something. Like you had to direct it to do what you want.”

“It’s true that it works on intent, but it’s not as simple as thinking ‘heal’ or ‘kill’ or ‘fly’. It’s more abstract than that, working intuitively on an angel’s _personal_ intent, unless consciously directed to achieve a specific end.”

“Like driving an automatic,” Dean suggested.

Cas nodded slowly, considering the idea. “Yes, sort of like that. But as for how this relates to you, well. My intent toward you is always to protect, assist, and wish for your well-being.”

Dean smiled softly to himself, unsurprised that Cas would have the sappiest Grace in the garrison. 

“So...your mojo just thought ‘Hey, you know what would be great for Dean’s well-being? Multiple orgasms,” Dean said with a sweeping gesture. “”But I’d probably better heal him up first, so he doesn’t have a heart attack while having his mind blown into the fucking stratosphere,’” Dean continued, unaware that he’d dipped his voice down to mock Cas’ timber while he narrated the personification of Cas’ Grace.

As Cas watched Dean’s display, his lips spread in a slow smile, eyes twinkling with mirth by the end of it. 

“I suppose that’s the gist of it,” he grinned, chuckling a little bit. 

Dean also started to laugh, rubbing a hand over his face, as he thought about what had happened, and the way intent seemed to work. “Dude, you healed me with the Power of Love.”

Cas smiled softly at him, wiggling a big toe against Dean’s calf. “I believe I prefer that point of view. It’s much more accurate of my resting intent toward you.”

The response was so guileless, Dean didn’t have the heart to tell Cas he’d been making a funny that really, wasn’t even funny. It was just accurate, if you only borrowed the three words and not the Celine Dion part. 

_But then again..._

No. Dean was absolutely not going to compare his love life to Celine Dion lyrics, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to admit that he knew those lyrics well enough to make said comparison. 

“…”

Son of a bitch.

Now the song was in his head, including a rearrangement to ‘’Cause you are my angel, and I am your man’, and if that wasn’t a mentally embarrassing moment in Dean’s life, he didn’t know what was.

“You know, there’s a song called ‘The Power of Love’ by a Canadian performer named Celine Dion,” Cas mused aloud. Dean groaned, but Cas didn’t seem perturbed by it. “I believe the lyrics are actually quite appropriate to our situation. To us.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, hoping to hell Cas didn’t suspect that he knew that already.

“Mmhmm,” Cas nodded, but thankfully left it at that. He wiggled his toe again, nodding toward Dean’s stomach. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.”

 

***

 

Dean was always chipper the morning after getting laid, but he was particularly obnoxious the day after the Grace fluke, practically swaggering into the kitchen to get his coffee. Sam was already seated at the table with his own coffee and a bowl of plain Shredded Wheat. Gross. 

“Mornin’ Sammy!” Dean announced himself, tousling his brother’s hair as he walked by, as if Sam were still twelve years old and not in his thirties.

Cas walked in right behind him, as close to a swagger in his own step as he ever got. What he lacked in carriage though, Cas made up for with the smug smile on his face. Sam looked between them, face fluctuating between confused and disapproving; he’d had to see the two of them walking around like smug jackasses in the morning more times than he cared to think about.

“What happened?” Sam asked, gesturing vaguely at Dean.

Dean’s face stretched in a wide grin, and the bitchface took over full force on Sam’s face. 

“Not that! God. Seriously guys, can you hang a sock or something? In case you didn’t know, you two are _loud,_ ” Sam said, nose wrinkled as he glanced between the other two men.

“Sorry, Sam,” Cas apologized, not looking or sounding all that apologetic.

Sam waved him off, clearly ready to move on from talking about Dean and Cas’ sex life. 

“Long story short, Cas accidentally healed me,” Dean supplied, handing a mug of coffee off to Cas before pouring one for himself.

“Accidentally?” Sam asked, eyebrows raised curiously at Cas.

Cas glanced conspiratorially at Dean, as if asking if he should elaborate, to which Dean smirked, but shook his head no. Sam watched the exchange, and it was easy enough to put together a vague idea of what happened. Interesting academically, but ew in context. Dean left the conversation then, to start working on pulling out the ingredients for a couple of omelets, while Cas gave a PG version of the healing, mostly sharing about the Grace and intent portion.

Tuned out the conversation, Dean was busy cutting up some ham when Sam’s voice raised, calling for his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Are you humming Celine Dion?” Sam asked, wide cheesy grin on his face.

“What? No,” Dean scoffed. _Shit. I totally was_.

“Yes you were,” Cas piped in. 

“You’re hearing things, both of you,” Dean gestured between them with the kitchen knife he’d been using.

“No, that was definitely the tune to the song I was telling you about,” Cas argued, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. 

Sam snorted a laugh, shaking his head. But then the snort-laugh turned into chuckle. “Dean. Did Cas heal you with the Power of Love?” he asked, face conveying that yes, Sam thought he was very clever. 

Cas beamed at that, leaning his butt against the counter a few feet down from Dean. “Yes, actually, I did.”

Mostly-guileless Cas struck again, and Dean was glad that Sam knew when to leave something alone, as Sam looked between the two other men with soft amusement. 

“That’s awesome, Cas,” Sam said kindly, though he did shoot a teasing smirk Dean’s way. 

“But I do think we need to get to the bottom of why my brother is familiar with Celine Dion beyond the Titanic song that everyone knows,” Sam grinned.

“You can just shut your cake and/or piehole,” Dean grumped, pointing the knife again. 

“Ms. Dion is a very talented vocalist, with a number of successful singles. I don’t see why you’re getting-”

“Oh my god,” Dean groaned to himself. 

He was never going to live that down. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Even I know this was pretty ridiculous, but if you made it down here, thanks for reading! 
> 
> You can catch me on tumblr [here](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com) if you feel so inclined :)


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